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“So, now, my boy, you must recruit, and recruit most speedily, at the least ninety troopers, ten sergeants, three cooks, probably one or two more farriers, a senior sergeant, another horse-leech and at least two more eeahtrohsee. Mounts, weapons and armor and horse-furnishings will, of course, be provided by the army. There is the fact, for what compensation that it will be, that you now will have ranks to put on the market—one troop-lieutenancy, two of sub-lieutenant and four of ensign. How long do you think it will take you? I’ll get you all the time I can.”

By the end of that week, Bralos had over a hundred troopers, a senior sergeant and twelve section-sergeants, all of the needed specialist troops, a troop-lieutenant, a sub-lieutenant and three of the ensigns—all five of the officers, all but two of the sergeants and a goodly portion of the troopers come out of the other squadron of lancers, the Panther Squadron, commanded by none other than Captain Opokomees Ehrrikos of Thakhahrispolis.

Portos rode up to the headquarters building of Wolf Squadron rocking in his saddle with laughter, tossed his reins to the waiting trooper and slid to the ground, still laughing. Seated in Bralos’ snug office, with a goblet of brandied wine in his big hands, the senior captain controlled himself long enough to give his host the tale.

Foaming with rage, Captain Opokomees Ehrrikos had stormed into the heavy horse headquarters and demanded immediate words with the overall commander of cavalry. Upon admission to Portos’ office, he had brusquely refused the offer of a tipple and had begun to rant and rave of the loss of almost a full troop of his best troopers and sergeants—including two sergeants from out of his own headquarters detachment and, to add insult to injury, his personal batman—no less than three sub-lieutenants, two ensigns and the senior lieutenant who had been in charge of his headquarters for years.

“Desertion?” queried Portos blandly, suspecting untold the true answer, even as he spoke. “We’ll apprehend these miscreants in no time, never you fear, Opokomees, the scouts will tell us which way they went, and then I’ll send some of Captain Chief Pawl’s Horseclanners to …”

“No, no, no, no no!” the visiting officer half-shrieked, shaking both gloved fists and stamping one booted foot upon the floor in his agitation. “The pigs didn’t desert, my lord Thoheeks, not legally; no, Petros and the rest of those drooling idiots I called my officers came to me and demanded back the prices of their ranks … and, of course, I had to give them the money. The others, those scoundrelly sergeants and the idiot troopers and my cretin of a servant, they all just took everything that did not belong to me and went over in a body to join that goddam Wolf Squadron. They’re hunkering there, now.”

“Well, lord Opokomees,” inquired Portos, “what do you want me to do about it all, pray tell? If the troops did not desert, then they still are members of my command who simply have chosen to serve me and the army in a different squadron. Admittedly, the other ranks should, strictly speaking, have gone through channels to effect a transfer to another unit of horse, but now that it is done, I can see no reason to censure them.”

“I don’t want them censured!” Captain Ehrrikos half-shouted. “I want the lowborn scum back! I’ll see the bare white spines of every one of those damned sergeants … and that backbiting batman, too!”

“It is all as I have heretofore stated, Captain Opokomees” said Portos with chilly formality. “This … ahhh … rearrangement of officers and troops will not discommode me or my brigade of horse, and so I can think of nothing that would impel me to involve myself in it. Have you considered riding over and pleading with Captain Vahrohnos Bralos to return them to Panther Squadron?”

Ehrrikos turned livid and grated from between tightly clenched teeth. “I did … earlier today. The bastard of a shoat and a goat, he laughed at me, laughed at me, to my very face. He said that did I put less gold on myself and more upon the backs of and in the bellies of my troopers, I might still have more of them within the precincts of my own camp and fewer of them within his. Then the misbegotten son of a diseased ape informed me that as he was very busy with interviewing newly come personnel, he would have to cut our visit short. The gall of the upstart, only a damned vahrohnos, and not even that for long!”

Portos tried hard to keep the smile from off his face, the laughter out of his voice. “Well, then, Captain, have you considered seeking an audience with the Grand Strahteegos? You seemed to have his ear and his favor earlier this week, as I recall. Perhaps he would see that you got at least your other ranks back. Neither he nor I could tell your noble officers what to do, not after you allowed them to sell back their ranks in Panther Squadron.”

The officer’s lividity deepened, darkened, and he ground his teeth. “Lord Thoheeks, it was our Grand Strahteegos Thoheeks Pahvlos who sent me here, to you as cavalry brigade commander to resolve this stinking mess. He said that he would leave resolution of the current matter up to you, trusting as he does your judgment, and he …” Ehrrikos paused and ground his teeth once more.

“Yes?” prompted Portos. “The Grand Strahteegos had other words, Captain?”

“He … he said … it was of a rather personal nature, my lord,” said Ehrrikos, a little lamely.

“Even so, I will hear it, Captain. Now,” Portos demanded, ordered.

Even in his anger, Ehrrikos could not mistake the authority in the voice of the senior captain, and he could not but obey. “He said, my lord, that if I was desirous of keeping my rank and the command of Panther Squadron, the two troops I had remaining and the third that I must immediately begin to recruit, I had best sell my finger-rings, my arm-rings and my golden chain and use the money from them to outfit my troops for winter campaigning and begin to feed them more and better rations. He … he promised that was Panther Squadron not the equal at least of Wolf Squadron by spring, that … that the entire army would be witness to my impalement.”

Lolling in the chair in Bralos’ office, the big, brawny Portos could no longer restrain himself, gusting once more into laughter that continued until tears were coursing down his scarred cheeks into his beard and he must perforce hold with both hands his aching sides.

“And would he?” asked Bralos. “Captain Thoheeks, could the Grand Strahteegos have an opokomees publicly impaled for such cause?”

Sobering a bit, the brigade commander replied, “Whether he would or not is really anyone’s guess; old Pahvlos is not easy to fathom. But if he felt he had cause, sufficient cause, he most assuredly could. His successes—past and present—have made him virtually a law unto himself, insofar as Council is concerned.

“But in this case of Opokomees Ehrrikos’ callous mistreatment of his squadron, I doubt that Pahvlos would go that far. Most likely, if Ehrrikos sees fit to ignore Pahvlos’ ‘advice,’ he will just have him well striped, stripped of his military rank and enough of his personal treasures to cover refurbishing the squadron and meeting the prices of rank of the remaining officers, then send him home in disgrace. No doubt, Ehrrikos’ overlord will be sufficiently displeased to punish him, too. But impalement, no, I doubt it, Bralos, not crucifixion or maiming, even.”

“My lord,” Bralos said, “I would ask a question of you.”

Smiling, Portos nodded. “Ask away, then, my good Bralos.”

“The provisions I have made for the men of my squadron—decent clothing, equipment and food—should these things not be provided to all men of the army by the army, rather than leaving such necessities’ provision up to individual commanders who, in most cases, either cannot or will not? Sub-strahteegos Thoheeks Tomos Gonsalos has told me that in both the Royal Army of Karaleenos and in the Army of the Confederation, things are just so—all soldiers’ needs being issued by the army.”